Friends
by Pepperminz
Summary: Being the youngest of his five brothers, Iceland is usually alone. He doesn't mind though, at least, he's convinced himself that he doesn't. The silence is a better companion than any living creature, right?


Iceland sat outside, on the front porch of his house. His little feet swung back and forth, knocking into the side of the porch on every back swing. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the warmth of the sun on his face and the cool touch of the wind on his cheeks. It was a perfectly normal, beautiful day. Nothing was out of the ordinary.

Expect for the fact that today was Iceland's birthday.

Not that he expected anyone to remember. He didn't really have any human or nation friends, his four older brothers all being far too busy to pay him any attention[1]. Nor could he see trolls or fairies like his brother Norway. But he didn't really mind, he was used to being alone. He kind of enjoyed the silence, even if it was a bit depressing at times. It was still more constant and reliable than any living companion.

Iceland leaned back, propping himself up by his elbows and staring up at the sky, watching the clouds go by.

Suddenly, he heard his name being called by a voice from down the path that led to his home. The boy sat up, curious as to who had come to visit him. He allowed himself a small smile when he saw that his visitor was Norway. Of all his brothers, Norway paid the most attention to Iceland, and so, Iceland liked him the best. Under Norway's arm, was a large box. Wrapped in bright blue paper and topped with a pink bow, the box piqued Iceland's curiosity. What was in the box? Was it for him? Why would Norway bring it if it wasn't for him?

Luckily for the inquisitive boy, the majority of his questions were answered when Norway placed the box on the ground in front of Iceland and gestured for the boy to open it. He quickly jumped off the porch and began to circle the box. It really was big, the top of the box even with Iceland's waist. He took a step forward, and placed his ear against the paper covering the outside of the box. Perhaps he could determine what was inside based on what sound it made?

"Will someone just open the damn box already?" a harsh voice sounded from within the box. Iceland jumped back in surprise, and looked to Norway for reassurance. The older male simply smiled and, once again, gestured for Iceland to open the box. Iceland hesitantly approached the box once again.

He then set to work on the wrapping paper, peeling it off one strip at a time, careful not to waste any. Before he finished unwrapping it however, the box began to rattle and shake. Once more, Iceland jumped back in surprise. The box began to rock back and forth more and more violently, until it tipped over and something black and fluffy spilled out onto the ground. It picked itself up and began to preen its feathers with great care.

A puffin? Why had Norway brought him a puffin? Iceland turned around to ask, but Norway was already gone, probably off to do paperwork or something.

Iceland turned back around and began to study the bird again. It was a proud creature, that much he could tell. It didn't so much as glance his way until it was satisfied that its feathers were as clean as could be. Only then did it begin to look around and notice the boy standing in front of him. In one fluid motion, it shook out its wings and took flight, coming to rest on the top of Iceland's head. Iceland blinked and looked up, trying to study the bird on his head.

"Hey, shorty. Are you the one who opened the box?" the creature asked him. Iceland nodded once. "I like you already, kid. Got a name?"

"Iceland" the boy told him.

"Alright then Icey, this is your place, right? Show me around!" the bird demanded, shifting in Iceland's silver hair, trying to get into a more comfortable position.

"Whatever you say, Mr. Puffin" Iceland replied, waking into his house.

"Mr. Puffin?" the creature scoffed. "Well, I suppose it could be worse. Mr. Puffin it is, then!"

And so, Iceland gained a friend, a loyal companion. Cooler than any mythical creature, more understanding than a human, and more reliable than even the silence that once prevailed over Iceland's life.

* * *

**A/N:**

**[1] Yes, I did research! Iceland is indeed the youngest (and second shortest) of the Nordics.**

**This was originally written/published on June 17th, but I didn't want to wait a whole year to publish it here.  
**


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